What Are You Wearing?
by squigglysquid
Summary: A fill for the Tumblr prompt: What are you wearing? - Garrus and Jane are on a do-nothing mission when he gets a very devious idea to help pass the time.


_Je-sus Christ… This is so damn_ _ **boring**_.

Jane sighs and shifts, uncomfortable with both the position she lays in and the fact that they've haven't and probably won't be able to do anything for a while. Garrus may be comfortable sitting still and waiting their target out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but her breasts are pressed against the front of her chestplate because of the position she's in and she's pretty sure no amount of moving will fix it. At least not without standing up and stretching her back, but she's pretty sure her husband will never go for that.

He's a sniper, he's used to these long hours of zero movement, but she's decidedly _not_ suited for this sort of thing. She's restless and twitchy from the unknown amount of hours she's been in cover behind the massive rock that Garrus lead her to so that, if any action breaks out, she is right in the thick of it. While she's perfectly okay with him being higher up the ridge in his little sniper's perch, being so close to the bunker their target is located without being able to move from this spot is getting to turn from a mild annoyance to a massive pain in the ass. Sometimes literally if she shifts into a different position to try and stretch out stiff limbs as best her hiding spot allows.

It's only been within the past half hour that her panties started riding up, situating themselves right in the most uncomfortable position between her ass cheeks. She silently curses when a squirm of her hips fails to adjust them and takes mental note to throw the damn things away so she never gets in this situation again. Screw wearing fancy underwear, she figures, not like I'm going to be doing anything fancy anytime soon besides taking a long, hot shower and promptly sprawling over the bed to sleep. Garrus can sleep on the couch, for all she cares, because this was his idea to sit in wait instead of following her plan to just charge in, guns blazing.

As if feeling her quiet loathing - which he probably can thanks to their Leviathan mind fuckery - the turian himself speaks through their open comm. "Jane?"

"Yeah?" She glances up to his perch as if he could see her glare in response for even _considering_ talking to her while she's in this mood. She doesn't think he sees her expression. That, or he just doesn't care.

 _Bastard's probably trying not to laugh his ass off while he watches me wiggling around in his scope._

His voice is a suggestive thrum when he says, "What are you wearing?"

Jane stills in her fidgeting and quirks her brows in confusion. She has no idea where the hell that came from or even why he's even asking as he _knows_ what she's wearing. There's no real reason to be using that tone of voice. "You know what I'm wearing."

Humming, he lowers his voice. "But I want to hear you say it."

She sighs and closes her eyes, exasperated with his teasing when she's so damn uncomfortable down here. Thinking she might as well humor him, if nothing else but to pass the time, she shifts to sit and press her back against the rock. This has to be at least the twentieth time to switch to this position, but she's run out of ideas, so she's just repeating them all each time a new muscle cramps. "My armor. I'm wearing my armor."

"And underneath?"

"My...underarmor…" _No shit, I'm in the nude with bare armor chafing pretty much everywhere. Sexy..._

She hears a long, considering hum, as if he needs to imagine the sight of something so obvious. "And underneath _that?"_

Snorting at the sheer ridiculousness of this conversation and how out of the blue it is to start shamelessly flirting while she's down her sweating her ass off, Jane looks up to his spot. She knows she will never be able to see him in his expertly chosen position, but that doesn't stop her from wishing she could see that smirk on his face. " _Oh…_ " she nearly purrs, smirking herself at the idea of just how much she'll be able to get away with. Just how far can she push him? "Why didn't you just ask instead of beat around the bush?"

"I didn't expect you to be so _difficult_."

She huffs a soft laugh, unable to stop the lift of her brow at the slight indignation in his tone. As if he would ever think she'd make it easy. He clearly forgot who she is. "What makes you think I _am_ wearing underneath?"

He growls slightly from the other side, though she knows he's well aware that she'd never go out to battle in just an undersuit. The thing isn't really meant for comfort with its many seams in precarious and entirely uncomfortable places, and it wouldn't provide much support to her breasts if she considers even so much as fast walking on a mission.

 _I want to be able to fight, not flop around in my chestplate. There's uncomfortable and then there's_ _ **bruising**_.

"You've been fidgeting all afternoon." His voice is heavy, thick with arousal, and she wonders just what the hell he's doing up there. "What does it feel like? Feeling that weave sliding across your skin?"

He wants more information, not caring if they're blatant lies. Oh, she'll give them. She might even get her own reward in the way his tone and vocals are changing.

Sighing breathlessly, Jane lays her head back against the rock and shifts her legs, wishing the armor wasn't made to limit rubbing during use. While helpful in battle, it's really fucking frustrating now that her comm is full of heavy rumbling and that deep, smoky growl that's all his and so unique thanks to that rough rasp from his slightly scarred vocal chords.

"It…" She closes her eyes to try and imagine the fabric against her skin. She's felt it with her fingers, so hopefully her imagination will do it justice. "It's rough, but not painful. Like your palms where they're callused from fighting and working with your hands."

"You do seem to like that." She can practically feel the heat of his breath on her sweaty neck and she opens her mouth to breathe, her chest starting to rise and fall as she steals heavy breaths. "Does the suit grip you the way I do? Use the same force against your skin?"

"Not even close."

"Mmm… So it's like my hands, but not my tongue?" He growls, as if aware of her silent intake at the thought of that very tongue on her rapidly flushing skin.

"Fuck, no." She palms her chest plate, forgetting it's there. "Shit… Garrus, you're not making this very easy."

"But think of the _payoff_." How can he make such simple words feel so hot and heavy against her skin? "Think of what it'll be like to finally feel my mouth on you, my hands against your skin, and my breath trailing down your body as I lower further and further-"

"Fuck," she snaps, squirming her legs. "You aren't helping me focus. What if I get my ass blown off?"

"You don't need to worry about that," he promises and, beneath that desire in his voice, she can hear the tender conviction. Yes, he really would watch her back even if she were standing out here completely naked, and not a single shot would even come so close as to lift her hair from the force of it cutting through the air. "I'd never let anything happen to the curve of your rear, so plump, so firm."

She huffs a laugh. "You're such an ass man."

"I'm a _you_ man. Don't think I'd ever forget those breasts of yours, soft and smooth under my tongue." She shifts and silently curses him for being so damn far away. "Touch them."

Surprised, she opens her eyes she hadn't known she closed. "What?" Lifting her chin, she wishes she could see even the slightest glint of the sun off of his scope. "You can't be serious. I'm wearing _armor,_ as I'm sure you can see."

"Oh, I can see. I still want to see your hands run over it, showing me just the way you like being touched."

" _Shit_ ," she whispers and she hears him hum, the sound so heavy it settles in her already fluttering stomach. Sighing to try and relieve some of the ache, she clicks her tongue as she tries to come to a decision of whether or not she should humor him at the cost of groping the hard plating of her armor like a horny idiot.

 _Dammit. He better be just as turned on as me. He deserves to at least be wedged in that armor of his for doing this to me._

Jane lifts her hands to her chest plate and flexes her fingers against them, imagining the soft give of her own breasts. It doesn't really do anything, but when she shifts her fingers to ghost over where her nipples would be, that deep growl makes up for the rest of the sensory deprivation caused by this situation. His view of her must be pretty damn good, and his imagination well able to make up for the obvious lack of any flesh showing, because she can practically _feel_ his eyes on her, stripping her from her cumbersome armor. She trembles just thinking about his hands on her instead of her own, lacking ones. Garrus curses something untranslated under his breath and she smirks, lifting her chin to give him a show of her throat as she firmly grasps the round swell of her chest plate.

"Go lower," he demands, his rhythmic growling drowning out his voice. It's a sound that shoves aside all thought as she follows his order.

A hand slides down her torso, the other sliding to brush the rough texture of her gloves against her pulse. Reaching the unarmored section of armor between her legs, Jane presses hard enough to feel the pressure against her cunt through the thick weave. She groans when she presses just right and hears her mate take a heavy breath, the sound rolling against her ears.

"Harder." His voice is firm, unmoving, and she does as she's told, rubbing her fingers over herself hard enough to feel an ache starting in her fingers. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," she whispers, shifting to spread her legs just a bit more. "Fuck, Garrus… You're such a goddamn _tease_." Scratching her gloved fingers down her pulse to try and simulate his tongue, she leans her head back against the smooth rock. "You better… follow this up…"

"Oh, I will. I'll force you down, lick you until you scream…" She curses again and he growls, the sound hungry, but still as smug as he ever is. "Then you'll beg me to take you… To feel me spreading you before making you _mine_ …" Jane is beyond words as she pants and lifts her hips into her firm presses and rubs. "Do you want me to knot with you, Jane?"

"You know-"

"I _know_ you do. But I want to hear you _say it_."

"Fucking Christ," she gasps, his apparent calm would be so damn infuriating if it isn't so god damn sexy.

"No, not 'Christ', say _my_ name. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

She bites back a moan as the heat in her stomach crests, waiting to crash down with just one more, _hard_ shove. "Fuck-"

"Say it." If she didn't already know his voice and vocals in these situations, she'd never have heard his command over his deafening desire. "Tell me what you want and I'll let you cum."

"Shit, shit, shit…" Whining, Jane looks up to the ledge where he rests and pants. "I want you to _fuck_ me, Garrus. I want you to hold me down, pull my hair, and sink your teeth in as you pump me full of your cum. I _need_ to feel you knot with me, to lock us together." He groans at that, but she's too far gone to be smug over getting him just as worked up. "Garrus…" she pleads, needing to be given that release.

"Cum for me, Jane. I want to hear you."

She moans as she stills with her climax, but the sound doesn't even reach her own ears over the thunderous _boom_ that pierces the sky, echoing off of the hills surrounding the mercenary compound. The sound and the knowledge of just _who_ did the shooting sends a shiver down her spine hard enough to make her buck from an aftershock firing in time with the fading rumbles of the shot. She can almost hear his 'scoped and dropped' over the comm, but he's silent save for the throaty growls and pants.

"Garrus?" Adrenaline pumps through her veins and she shifts just enough to glance around the boulder she's behind, the haze of her orgasm now fading in the face of possible danger.

The sight of the downed merc leader is impressive, to say the least. The turian is definitely a head shorter now, and his few men are scrambling to find their balls enough to face whoever just made pulp of their boss' head. As she grabs her weapon with a sigh of relief to finally be moving one step closer to getting the hell off this planet, she nearly misses his growled, seductive promise.

"We'll continue this later."


End file.
